


For You, I Would

by masterroadtripper



Category: The Sisters Brothers (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Trying to make a life together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterroadtripper/pseuds/masterroadtripper
Summary: Hermann Kermit Warm had suffered through his fair share of pain thus far in his short life, but nothing compared to waking up in a physician's office in an unknown gold mining town, feeling as if The Formula was still tearing through his skin, muscles and eyes.  Not knowing what had happened to John Morris, the one person in his life that made Hermann feel things he'd never felt before, was perhaps worse agony even still.Hermann and John survive the spilling of The Formula into the river, but at what cost?
Relationships: John Morris/Hermann Kermit Warm
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: 01/01/21: Chapter One had been updated and edited as I re-watched the movie today and realized that Hermann was the one who got The Formula in his eyes and not John.

The first thing that Hermann noticed was that he was in pain. Pure, unadulterated, unbridled pain. He had gone through a lot thus far in his short life, and yet everything else he’d experienced compared in no way to what he felt now. Perhaps, all the pains combined together could be comparable to this and while Hermann rarely found himself brought to tears, this was close. Trying to blink, opening his eyes with no noticeable changes in the light around him, Hermann felt his breath catch as he realized that his vision had yet to return. He vaguely remembered a very similar scenario in the tent back at Folsom Lake but had naively hoped that within time he’d recover. 

In the darkness, Hermann found himself pushing to sitting as gently as he could, even though it felt like someone was scraping the skin straight off the bones of his arms, chest, and hips with a straight razor. The need to know where he was was unsettling, as he was quite obviously not in the tent back at Folsom Lake and was in a proper framed building, judging by the lack of a chill and the sounds of the bubbling water. 

Blinking to clear the fuzz from his head, which was likely a combination of both the pain he was experiencing but also some type of numbing agent, Hermann figured that someone must have given him something. Otherwise, Hermann bet he likely would have been feeling worse. Feeling around a little, Hermann noted the feeling of a knit trail blanket resting at his hips and covering his waist, as well as thick bandages wrapped around his stomach, chest and arms. 

“Ah, you’ve woken,” a man’s voice said. Looking towards the sound, instinctively, though he was able to see nothing, Hermann heard the sound of fabric being placed down. It was as if all of his other senses were heightened. The squeak of the floorboards or the shuffle of fabric that he had overlooked when he’d had his sight was flooding his brain. Blinking again, though with no results any different from the last time, Hermann wondered if they had been taken back to Mayfield or Jacksonville by either of the Sisters Brothers or if he was in an entirely new town all together. Were they taken to a town with a doctor?

“Yes sir,” Hermann found himself replying to the man’s voice, taking one bandaged arm to rub at his eyes. The pain didn’t increase as he moved the limb, staying constant, furthering Hermann’s hypothesis that there had been some medicine applied to his body. He was now curious what the medicine was, as it appeared to be doing at least a portion of its job and the curiosity of Hermann’s running away thoughts temporarily distracted from the constant pain.

“My name is Dr. Nyers, how are you feeling,” the doctor asked, the click of a glass jar being placed on wood sounding from his left side. A jar perhaps. Hermann wondered if it contained the medicine in question. Hermann wanted to know everything about it. What was in it? What colour was it? Where did it come from? Was it topical or to be ingested? Did the doctor make it himself or did he buy it from the east coast and it travelled on a mule train? 

“In considerable pain,” Hermann confessed before asking, “but doctor, please tell me, what about my eyes?”

“It appears you have damaged them beyond my ability to repair,” the doctor said, his voice even and calm, “can you see anything?”

“No sir,” Hermann replied, reaching up again to press at the wounds on his face.

“Don’t touch,” the doctor said, making Hermann jump slightly when he felt a set of chilled hands touch his own, gently coaxing his hands down, “Your face was badly injured Mr. Warm, try not to touch.”

“Sorry,” Hermann replied, letting his hands rest in his lap on top of the trail blanket. 

“I have mixed a stronger pain relief ointment, which I was hoping to apply when I change your bandages,” the doctor replied, before asking, “where do you feel pain?”

“Everywhere sir,” Hermann replied, “except for my legs.”

The doctor said nothing, but Hermann heard the squeak of the floorboards under his feet followed by the soft shuffle of shoes towards a different area of the room. A man of few words, Hermann noted. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not, but he did hope to at least get some information out of the man in regards to this ointment. 

“They were burnt with the same substance before, but I can’t feel anything now,” Hermann added, swallowing hard at the mention and mere thought of The Formula. The dreaded concoction that led him to where he was now. Hermann cursed himself for creating it in the first place. 

The doctor said nothing in reply, but judging by the sound of rough graphite on paper, the man was making note of the information. Instead of continuing to pester the doctor any longer, Hermann tried to force his battered lower limbs to move, at least a little. He thought he could feel his left big toe twitch slightly, but he couldn’t be certain. Without visual confirmation, all Hermann had was part of a thought that he could never prove.

Running his right hand gently along with bandaging of his left arm, Hermann noted that the bandages, while not too tight or thick, felt well wrapped. The seems gently overlapping and yet not pressing into the skin too much was as if done by an expert and suddenly, Hermann had a lot more faith in the doctor caring for him. The art of the trade proved the quality of the man, much like how John was able to pen beautiful lines of written words, articulating his words in a way that Hermann found himself struggling to do on a number of occasions. 

The thought stopped all others. John. What had happened to John? He’d heard him crying out in pain at their plot by the creek, but had been unable to race to his side as his own legs and vision gave out. Memories fogged over as the caustic solution permanently ruined his skin, searing through flesh and muscle and ruining to the core while Eli pulled him away and laid him onto the cot. 

“Doctor,” Hermann said, practically cutting off his own thoughts, “John Morris, is he here?” 

“Yes he is Mr. Warm,” the doctor replied, “he is sitting on the porch right now.”

“What happened? Is he alright? He got The Formula on him too you know,” Hermann rattled, finding it increasingly hard to stop his mouth from running. 

“The wounds on his arms and legs were about as severe as yours, however, there is another wound of his that is cause for greater concern at the moment,” the doctor said, his voice getting closer again, “he is not in a very healthy state of mind. My wife has been watching him as of late.”

“How?” Hermann found himself exclaiming. How did he receive yet another wound? Did he fight with the Sisters Brothers after Hermann’s own mind ceased to register his surroundings? Hermann wouldn’t be surprised, as John seemed to hate Charlie as if he was the devil himself. 

“A bullet wound,” the doctor explained.

“A bullet wound?” Hermann found himself exclaiming, cutting off the doctor.

“The two men who brought you to me said he tried to take his own life, to end the agony of his limbs eroding under whatever you both managed to get on yourself,” the doctor continued, “the men had no idea what the substance was, other than that it smelled like rotten eggs.” 

“Sulfuric acid,” Hermann quickly replied, “in its most concentrated form it produces wounds such as these, I suppose. Will John be alright?”

“Potentially,” the doctor replied, followed by the squeak of faucets turning followed by the sound of running water, “He is not a very cooperative patient and has recently been refusing to speak to anyone. I cannot collect data on his condition as he refuses to answer my questions.”

“Can I see him?” Hermann asked.

“I think that would be a good idea, yes Mr. Warm,” the doctor agreed, “Mr. Morris asks after your condition in excess, however, I have to change your bandages before I can allow you to move.”

“Alright,” Hermann agreed, not liking the solution, given how much John must be suffering. Alone. Out on the porch. Not knowing if Hermann would be of sound body or mind when he awoke. Hermann could imagine the agony he would be in if their positions were reversed. How frustrating of a patient he would have become to the doctor. 

“Could you lay back Mr. Warm?” the doctor asked, “And please, tell me if I am causing you pain?”

“Of course,” Hermann agreed, laying back onto the cot and bracing for the inevitable. 


	2. Chapter 2

For the fifth day in a row, John woke before the doctor and his wife. Even though Dr. Nyers had asked him to not exert himself, John refused to stay cooped up in the surgery any longer than absolutely necessary. Even though Hermann was resting in the surgery, still sleeping from whatever the doctor routinely stirred into the broth with the world's most obnoxious spoon that he always scrapped against the bowl, John found himself unable to stay laying in the cot for a second longer than needed, now that he could maneuver himself to his feet.

It took a considerable amount of effort to push himself out of the cot and more effort, yet again, to tear himself away from Hermann’s side. Every morning that Hermann did not wake, it was harder for John to leave, yet he still managed to do it. To look upon Hermann’s damaged face with his unseeing eyes made John want to be sick. Features ruined by such reckless greed, now abandoned by the Sisters Brothers in a tiny town to struggle with their misfortune alone. Had John been awake before Charlie and Eli had left, he wasn’t sure he would have let Charlie leave in one piece. John tried not to think of what he would do to Charlie if they crossed paths in the future.

The Accident, as John had taken to calling it in his own mind, didn’t change Hermann’s features too much, unlike John, who figured his beard would never truly grow back properly. What made him want to heave the broth that the doctor's wife would feed him was looking at Hermann’s eyes, the beautiful brown clouded over and burnt by The Formula, to no longer look into John’s ever again. The doctor said that he could not be sure how much sight Hermann would have, when he woke up, but he had said that he was not hopeful.

Placing his bare feet on the cold floor and pushing himself to standing, John hissed at the feeling of the burns contacting the hardwood. They weren’t as painful or deep as the wounds on other parts of his body, but enough that the fourteen steps from his cot to the front stairs was unpleasant and required a decent period of rest afterwards.

The burns on his knees, thighs and hips ached and pulled against the tight bandages, wrapped when he was laying, and as he walked, the muscles tugged at the skin and made the wounds ache. John wondered if pulling on his boots, wherever they were, would make it better or worse for his feet, but until he could find his boots, John wasn’t able to try. For all he knew, they’d been thrown away alongside the rest of their clothes that were soaked in The Formula, now replaced by a white tunic and set of leggings courtesy of the doctor.

Out on the front step, John relished in the feeling of freedom, for as long as it would last. Ms. Nyers would inevitably drag him back inside when she woke, convinced that if he was left alone for too long, he’d do something unfavourable to his health. John didn’t blame her, but even if he was intending on making a repeat performance of his use of Charlie’s gun by the river, that would require a couple of steps in between.

Not that John hadn’t considered it, had Hermann stopped breathing in the middle of the night, but that day had not yet come to pass and he’d woken up to the raspy, laboured breaths of the smaller man every morning for five days. The stabbing pain in his right shoulder and the sling the doctor had fastened around John’s neck to allow the shattered joint to heal was enough of a reminder that he had caused enough trouble for himself.

Settling onto the wooden steps gingerly, John scratched at the burnt skin where his thick beard used to be and closed his eyes against the brightness of the rising sun over the horizon. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t worried about Hermann. John had slept for two days, the doctor had said, and his injuries were extensive. Now, Hermann had been asleep for a week tonight and John couldn’t help but fear the worst. Was Hermann going to be the same man that John remembered?

The same man who made John feel something in the bottom of his gut that he’d never felt for another person. There had been a girl back at home. Back on the other side of the ocean in France, Marie had seemed pretty enough and she had always been nice to John. They’d shared a couple of chaste kisses in the corridors of his father’s home and on the back of his horse when he’d brought her home, and John had always assumed that that meant they were destined to be joined in holy matrimony.

Then he’d come overseas to escape his family. While he wrote to Marie on occasion, no more than three or four times a year, she’d met another man and they were now married. John had felt rejected at the beginning but learned that he was better off alone. His lifestyle under the Commodore was not conducive to a lasting romantic relationship. Then he’d been set after Hermann and his world had been shifted several feet to the right in just a handful of days.

Beautiful, smart, funny Hermann. Who made John laugh, smile and consider that there was a possibility for a life outside of working for the Commodore. That he could change his stars.

John’s fingers itched for his pencil and his journal. Without it, his thoughts were too scattered, all over the place. He couldn’t think straight and it felt like his brain was swirling up in the clouds above his head instead of inside his skull. Putting everything on paper usually sorted out that issue, but with his hands bandaged and his fingers too shaky to grasp onto a pencil for any longer than a few seconds, John had given up on trying to pen any notes.

As he looked up at the gradually lightening sky, John wondered where the Sisters Brothers had ended up after they’d come through Jacksonville. He vaguely remembered Eli speaking of family up north, but after everything that had happened, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gone somewhere else.

Dr. Nyers had said that Charlie had had his arm amputated and the second that the younger brother had been able to get on a horse, they’d been gone. As much as John wanted to go after them and punch Charlie’s face in for what he did to him and Hermann, he figured it was better Dr. Nyers hadn’t known where they’d gone. Not to mind that John could barely support his own weight, let alone ride a horse for any significant length of time.

Just as the first glimpses of the sun crested the horizon at the end of the street that Dr. Nyers’ building rested on, John heard the obnoxious squeak of the front door opening as the soft footsteps of Ms. Nyers approached.

“Good morning John,” she whispered, “how are you feeling this morning?”

John, sticking to his consistent streak of silence, did not reply.

“Well, I’m going to start breakfast soon,” she said, “why don’t you come inside?”

Knowing better than to refuse, John slowly pushed himself to standing, resigned to simply follow. Pushing back into the house, putting one burnt foot in front of the other, John kept wishing for the day that he could walk out the front door of Dr. Nyers’ office with Hermann and never return. As John slowly followed Ms. Nyers through the cramped corridors of the wood frame, gold-money-financed building, he heard a very specific lilt that made his heart stop beating.

Hermann.

It was Hermann’s voice, without a doubt. John felt like he could cry. Hermann was awake.


End file.
